


Tall, Strong, and Extra-Scot

by thatsoccercoach



Series: TSES [1]
Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-05-31 06:43:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 21,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15113951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatsoccercoach/pseuds/thatsoccercoach
Summary: Every morning on her way to work, Claire stops for coffee. One day, her regular shop is closed and she has to get coffee across the street at The Gathering where she meets someone who is tall, strong, and extra-Scot. There's something undeniable between them, but can they fit their two very different lives together or is it too much to overcome?





	1. Prologue

                                                            

She was running late. Again. Well, technically she wasn’t late yet but she was stopping for coffee. There could be no other choice. Her mornings, Monday through Friday, always included a stop at the coffee shop on the corner of the last main intersection before she turned onto the smaller side streets to go to work. It was a large chain, green siren trademark adorning the outside of buildings all along her route and beyond. She could have picked up her drink numerous times along the way, but she chose the one closest to work that way her coffee would “last” the longest. Also, being honest about the situation, she often brewed her own cup of plain coffee at home before leaving the house and only finished it by that point in her drive. In her line of work, her patience was tried nearly immediately upon her arrival and she survived on the caffeinated bliss alone. Well, caffeine and joy in the products of her hard work.

She flipped on her right-hand blinker to turn into the drive-through and instead slammed on her brakes as she read a “Visit our new location!” sign in the window of the now-vacant shop. The car behind her honked, riding up close to her bumper. “ _Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ_ , give a girl a break!” she huffed to herself and the angry stranger behind her while pulling into the empty drive-through to figure out what to do.

Driving around the abandoned loop, past the screen that had displayed her order morning after morning, and on to the exit, she looked across the street. She never went across the street for a couple of reasons. The “brand name” coffee was quick and easy and _that stuff_ was across the five-lane road. During morning traffic. Also, who in the world didn’t have a drive-through nowadays? Answer: The shop across the street.

Out of both time and options, she flipped on her blinker again and steeled herself to cross traffic to get to _The Gathering_.

Residents of this particular region of the Pacific Northwest had a propensity for aggressive driving that hindered her progress. Residents of this region also had an inclination toward desperate and undiscerning coffee consumption. Those traits, coupled with the wet pavement, made the merge into traffic more than slightly hazardous and her tires screeched briefly before gaining traction.

By the time she managed to get across the street, she was _definitely_ behind schedule. She snagged her purse off her passenger seat, hopped out, and slammed the door behind her, scampering through the drizzle that was trademark weather for nearly _all_ of the Pacific Northwest nearly _all_ of the time. If Eskimos had hundreds of words for snow, people in Madison, Washington had hundreds of words for rain.

She entered the shop attempting, with absolute futility, to shake the raindrops from her rapidly frizzing curls. A quaint-sounding bell jingled overhead welcoming her into a seemingly empty space that smelled of the heavenly beans. Before her was an empty counter, espresso machines at the ready. Flustered, she again brushed at the moisture and scowled, already upset that she may have come into a shop that was seemingly unattended.

“Is that you then, Geordie?” came a jovial voice from somewhere behind the counter. “Took you long enough. Did ye have to go all the way to South America for the coffee beans?”

“No, it’s me, Claire,” she answered stupidly before shaking her head at herself. _Why in the world was she answering a total stranger?_ Most likely because she hadn’t had coffee yet.

A head of deep red curls appeared over the espresso machine.

The most absurd thought popped into her head then. He was the human embodiment of the way she liked her coffee: Tall, strong, and _extra-Scot._


	2. The Gathering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire and Jamie meet one another and we get a peek into Claire's daily life.
> 
> Also, Jamie tries to wink and it's adorable.

                                                            

The woman before him was an absolute vision, wild curls framing her fine-boned face. In mere seconds an entire future, all with her in it, flashed through his mind’s eye. Then he snapped back to reality.

“Claire then?” _That’s what she’d said, right? Claire, Sorcha, Light._ Jamie gave his head a shake.  “What can I get for ye?” He also gave himself an internal pep talk. Focus was key here and people in the Pacific Northwest did not mess around with their coffee. He couldn’t afford to fail this. He _really_ couldn’t.

“Oh,” she stumbled over her words before continuing. “A skinny vanilla latte, please. I usually order one across the way,” she waved a hand airily in the direction of the now-closed shop on the opposite side of the highway. “Clearly I hadn’t noticed they were closing though. Where _is_ the new location?”

Her voice was rich and smooth while somehow her accent still sounded crisp. She gave off an aristocratic air, carrying herself upright with ramrod precision. Yet for all her properness, she exuded a warmth. Maybe it was in her eyes. Possibly it was her smile. Jamie couldn’t put a finger on it for certain.

“The new location is down the street in that shopping center.” He jerked his head as if to point to the grocery store that was down the block. The shopping center housed one large grocery store, a chiropractor, a veterinarian, and a store selling products made only of recycled materials in the smaller buildings adjoining. “It’s just inside the grocery store. No drive-thru though.” They both shook their heads at that. _The Gathering_ would have had a drive-thru if the remodel wouldn’t have cost so much. It was incredibly advantageous for business.

“Where’ve you been that you didn’t catch they were closing this location?” He chatted easily while pulling shots and steaming milk.

“Last week was one of our breaks. I work at a school, you see? Anyway, we were on break all week and I didn’t drive this way. I can’t believe they didn’t have signs out sooner but I suppose if you’re a major chain you don’t really need to.” She shrugged, portraying an appealing and unusual mixture of chagrin and nonchalance.

“What time does school start?” He puzzled aloud. “Seems as if it would be soon if it were the primary children.” Internally he shook his head at himself. “Primary children” was a very un-American way to say it but he still hadn’t picked up the habit of calling it “elementary school” even after years in the country. Clearly, Claire was English though so she likely didn’t even notice his awkward phrasing.

“Oh, I’m definitely going to be late,” she confirmed. “But there’s no help for it. If I don’t have coffee I might as well not show up at all.” A smile flashed across her face.

“Maybe I can help a bit,” he said, pushing the drink across the counter toward her. “This first drink is on me.”

“You can’t just give out drinks, can you?” She greedily snatched the cup then laughed both at him and at her reaction to the coffee.

“Seeing as I’m the owner, I think I can.”  

Then he winked at her. Actually, if _that_ was a wink, it was a failure. She dissolved completely into a fit of giggles.

“Fine then,” she grinned and without a backward glance she marched to the door, gracelessly banged her shoulder in the doorway and ricocheted toward the center, then was out in the rainy parking lot before he could say anything more.

* * *

Once more she haphazardly grabbed items from her car, balancing her coffee and purse, then dashed inside through the rain. Someone had told her once that you could tell who the tourists were in the region by looking for umbrellas. Residents had long ago decided that they were going to get rained upon and that’s all there was to it. Apparently, she’d become a resident of the Evergreen State without really even noticing it. She was a citizen of the United States, but that had been deliberate.

“I’m here!” she called out as she passed the desk at the school’s entrance.

“And just in time too,” Mrs. Graham shot her a look as she blazed past. “The bell is about to ring, Claire!”

“I know and I’m sorry. We had a rough morning. I’m here, aren’t I?” She tossed back over her shoulder.

The hallways of Anderson Pemberton Elementary School were bustling with students, parents, and teachers. The school had been built in the late 70’s to accommodate the population of the west side of Madison at the time. Since the early 2000’s though, Madison’s population had exploded. Young, single entrepreneurs had moved to the Seattle area in search of both jobs and education. Over the last decade and a half, they’d found partners, begun families, and had moved to the suburbs or what was left of them.

Madison, Washington was an odd mix of modern and traditional and the schools were now bursting at the seams. Recently, residents had passed a levy that would allow several of the older schools in the district to be remodeled or, in some cases, rebuilt. This spring, remodeling would begin on their campus and would culminate with the destruction of one of the buildings and some new construction over the summer months. The renovations would allow the school to accommodate a greater number of students and would also permit technology updates to happen more efficiently.

Claire was excited to see their little school undergo the sorely needed improvements. She was not excited to pack up a classroom and move her things. She’d moved rooms three times in the past five years and it was getting old. Still, she hoped this would be the last move for a while.

She nudged the door to her room open with her hip and let her purse and keys fall onto her desk. The lights were already on and the chairs were scooted up close to the tables instead of being stacked on top so that the custodians could vacuum. She thumped the temporary wall between her room and Mary’s.

“Thank you!” she shouted with a grin on her face. Mary Hawkins taught kindergarten and no matter which room Claire had taught in, Mary had always been on one side of her or the other.

“You’re welcome,” a muffled voice came in response through the thin walls.

After so many years, Mary had grasped that Claire often cut it close when it came to her arrival time and had stepped in to help her on numerous occasions. In turn, Claire always had Mary’s back when she had _those_ parents in her class. Non-teachers didn’t realize that it wasn’t the children who drove teachers away from the profession. It was the neurotic parents.

The first bell rang and Claire slurped another drink of her coffee before she scampered off to prop her door open and begin the day. It was bound to be a long one. Mondays always were. She’d plow her way through, doing her best for the students she served, then she’d go meet Fergus and they’d head home together.

* * *

To say it had been a long day would have been an understatement. Isak, a student whom she’d worked with for more than two years now, had been experiencing a series of setbacks in his progress. His sensory processing disorder had posed many challenges to him when he began kindergarten but they’d worked together and he had honestly come an incredibly long way. Claire was proud of the way he coped with the demands of being in a classroom in spite of the difficulties he was facing.

The problem seemed to be that his home life had been tumultuous as of late and he was coming to school tired and emotional and unprepared for what the day held. Claire had no control over the home lives of her students which was always something she wrestled with. Any teacher needed support from home but as an occupational therapist, that link with home was absolutely integral to the success of her students!

She had a meeting scheduled with his parents and second grade teacher later in the week to see if there was anything else they could do to help him experience more success in the classroom. Claire loved her students. Claire hated meetings. Claire also hated emails asking her to perform miracles, particularly when her principal was cc’d on the message and she had to answer promptly and play nicely. She was answering one such email now. Answering emails _after_ an already long day of working with students would likely be considered poor planning by most people but there wasn’t really an alternative.

Plopping down at the cluttered desk in the corner of her classroom, Claire began to read and formulate a response.

> Hi Mrs. Beauchamp,
> 
> I know your busy

Claire threw herself back in her chair causing it to bounce slightly. “ _Your?_ ” Really? Didn’t people know how to write nowadays?

> I know your busy but I was hoping that you could make sure Jenae gets enough time to take her test today. Last time her teacher didn’t give her any extra time

“You have got to be fudging kidding me,” she mumbled murderously. She wanted to swear. Not only had Jenae’s teacher given her extra time on the test like her IEP required, but she’d sent Jenae down to work in Claire’s classroom for that extra time so that it would be quieter.

Jenae hadn’t passed the test because she hadn’t studied. She’d admitted that to Claire guilelessly. Instead of studying for the test, Jenae and her mom had stayed up watching the season finale of their favorite show because Jenae’s mom was more interested in being her child’s friend instead of her parent.

> Last time her teacher didn’t give her any extra time and caused her to not do well. All I want is for us all to work to work together so that Jenae can do well in her classes because its very important to do good in school and I want her to be able to learn all the things she needs to know in life.
> 
> I hope you’ll actually help,
> 
> Jessica

She began to hammer out a response using lots of “teachery” words and educational jargon thrown in. She’d ask Mary to read the email in the morning before she actually sent it, just to make sure that it was civil, professional, and addressed the actual concerns. She’d learned that sending an email in the heat of the moment wasn’t typically the way she put her best foot forward.

Still, she wanted to check this task off her list and get home to Fergus.

Her job was emotionally exhausting enough but her personal life added a whole new level of demand. Having Fergus present and in her life may have meant that she had someone else she was responsible to, but he also brought her joy. Life was chaotic, full, draining, and absolutely lovely.

Reading her work once more, she saved the draft and logged off her computer. She grabbed her keys and purse and headed for the door. “I’ll be home before you know it,” she murmured to nobody in particular. Then she flipped off the lights and was on her way.


	3. A Name and a Badge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire loses her staff badge...which may have turned out to be a good thing.

                                                            

Once again her morning began with chaos. Both she and Fergus had been slow to leave the house which meant both of them were cutting it close in regards to reaching their respective destinations. Her destination was school. School with a stop for coffee first.

She pulled into a parking spot in the grocery store parking lot and walked in to see where they’d opened the new location of her regular coffee shop. Zipping up her raincoat, she shrugged her shoulders against the damp and the breeze. It should have been warmer by this point in March but it seemed as if spring would just taunt them forever but would never really come completely.

“It’s always winter but never Christmas,” she mumbled the line from one of her favorite classic children’s books. Even though it addressed a holiday and not the current season, the sentiment was spot on. She entered through the automatic doors of the grocery store and saw the distinctive green logo of the coffee chain atop the new kiosk near the entrance and the line of people waiting.

She could smell the aroma of the beans wafting, she could hear the coffee grinder, and she could see the frustrated face of the woman at the front of the line turn and walk away.  

“Good luck,” she snarked in the direction of the line and Claire. “Their machine isn’t even working so they only have drip coffee or tea, no espresso because they can’t pull the shots.”

Claire craned her neck around the people in front of her to see. It was true. People were either walking away empty-handed or were having just plain old coffee or tea. She sighed dramatically and headed back to her car.

She signaled and rejoined the traffic, driving the few blocks to return to _The Gathering_ yet again. When she entered, she felt as if she was home which was both utterly ridiculous and completely true. A low fire burned in the fireplace around which two cozy chairs faced toward each other. The smell of fresh pastries, she supposed they must be made on-site, filled the air.

“Back so soon, lass?” Jamie’s voice greeted her and she smiled before she knew what was happening.

“Yes, well, problems again with my regular coffee routine.” She set down her lanyard, staff badge, and keys on the counter and pulled a card from inside her wallet placing it there as well. “I’ll have a skinny vanilla latte. Can you make it with an extra shot though? I feel as if I’ll need it for the day I’m about to have.”

“Are you borrowing trouble or just battening down the hatches then?” He made eye contact with her when he asked. It wasn’t just idle chit chat as he worked but a genuine interest in what she had to say.

“Well, a bit of both to be honest,” she looked slightly abashed. “I don’t enjoy meetings and I have several on my schedule today. As I don’t really like them, I probably don’t go into them with the best attitude if I’m being completely honest about the situation.” On her face, she wore a rather reluctant looking smile.

As he had the day before, he slid her drink across the counter to her and flashed a lopsided and completely endearing grin. “Weel, best be prepared then!”

She reached for the coffee brushing his fingertips as he removed his hand and she felt as if she’d touched a spark. She quickly glanced up to meet his gaze as his other hand purposely grazed hers this time, pressing something into her palm.

“Ye’ll be needin’ chocolate covered espresso beans then, lass.”

She almost floated out of the coffee shop and didn’t even notice the traffic or her drive until she parked in the staff lot at school.

* * *

Jamie was smitten. The woman with the whiskey-colored eyes and the wildly curling hair, Claire, had come into the shop yet again. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was, but he knew already that there _was_ something between them and it wasn’t his imagination.

Whenever she came in it was clear that she’d had a busy morning already by the time she arrived, and yet she was still in a rush to get to work next. And though she was hurried, she had a laugh that escaped with such ease that it made him want to try and make her share it every time she came in.

“What are ye starin’ at ye wee fool?” Murtaugh had a way with words that made everyone rethink their entire life the moment he spoke, regardless of the circumstances.

Jamie whipped his gaze away from the doorway where he’d last seen Claire and back to the counter that was scattered with a few stray coffee grounds. And a lanyard with a staff badge.

“I was going to take care of this,” he gestured at the badge. “A customer left it.”

“The curly haired lass?” Murtaugh inquired. Jamie’s face must have shown surprise but his godfather continued. “It may have only been a couple of days but anyone can see from the look on yer face that ye are taken wi’ her. It’s the way yer da looked at yer mam.” He shook his head. “Call the lass.”

Then he turned back to the storeroom and stalked off.

Jamie took the badge in his large hand. _Claire Beauchamp_ , it read, followed by _Occupational Therapist_. On the back were the name, address, and phone number of the school.

She’d have to come back and get it, right? All of a sudden he felt nearly giddy, which was foolish, he knew, but he couldn’t help himself. It was like the fairy tales his mam had told his cousin Jenny when she’d come to stay the night when they were small. This was like the one about Cinderella except instead of a glass slipper she’d lost a badge and instead of scouring the countryside for the maiden, all he needed to do was make a phone call.

He pulled his cell phone out from his back pocket and dialed the number on the back of the badge, already planning how he’d greet Claire Beauchamp when she came by to retrieve her missing things.

* * *

_Beep_. The school’s tinny sounding intercom signaled that a speaker was about to begin relaying a message of some sort to her. Honestly, the technology updates could not come soon enough.

“Miss Beauchamp? You in there?”

“Yes, Mrs. Graham!” she shouted. Her end of the intercom wasn’t known for picking up voices very well and as such, it required one to heartily project their voice.

“There was a call for you here at the office. A James Fraser?”

An awkward pause followed. She didn’t know a James Fraser.

“Are you still there, Miss Beauchamp?” the voice came again.

“Yes!” she hollered in response. “ _Who_ called? And what exactly was it that they wanted?” It would have been wonderful if Mrs. Graham knew how to text. Even if she’d sent an email it likely would have been easier.

“James Fraser the owner of _The Gathering_ ,” the voice intoned.

_Where on earth did he find my phone number?_ Claire pondered internally. One could _only_ ponder internally when there was an intercom. That was unfortunate since Claire often thought out loud, but in this case, she refrained.

Mrs. Graham continued as if she’d heard Claire’s thoughts anyway. “He found your lanyard with your staff badge on the counter and called the main phone number for the school.”

She groped awkwardly around her neck, hands searching for the lanyard that held her badge that she always wore at school. She cursed under her breath, thankful that Mrs. Graham couldn’t hear her and equally thankful that Fergus wasn’t there to catch it either.

“Can you give me his number so that I can get a hold of him and get my badge back? Please?”

“Of course dear,” Mrs. Graham rattled off a string of numbers that Claire copied down onto one of the many half-filled post-it notes on her desk.

She’d call him at lunch so she wouldn’t be rushed when they talked. Who knew what they’d actually end up talking about? It might not end with the badge, right?

“His accent is positively dreamy,” Mrs. Graham seemed to read her mind once more. How the woman did that without even looking her in the face was beyond Claire. “You should _definitely_ call back.”

“Oh, I will, Mrs. Graham,” she smiled smugly. “I will.” But she was _definitely_ going out of earshot from the intercom to do so.

* * *

“Hullo?” A cheery sounding voice emanated from the earpiece of Claire’s phone as she sat in her car in the parking lot at school.

The sun, strangely enough after the morning’s rain, had appeared and was beating down, turning her car into a small, four-door oven. She wouldn’t make personal calls in her classroom though as she ran the risk of being overheard by a secretary on the intercom system or a student bursting into the room at inopportune times. Her go-to alternatives were to walk around the block where the school was located or sit in her car. Frequently she became out of breath if she talked while she walked and she didn’t need this James fellow hearing a breathless Claire.

Instead, she sat sweating in the sweltering heat of her car.

“Is this James speaking?” She _knew_ it was his voice so she wasn’t completely certain why she was asking. Maybe just to hear him.

“Aye,” she could hear the smile in his voice as he went on. “And how’re you, sassenach?”

“I’m sorry. What?” She scrunched up her brow then remembered that he couldn’t see what she was doing.

“Oh, I didna mean to offend. It just means an outsider. I suppose I’m one myself.” If one could see somebody shrug through a phone call, Claire would have been able to see his. “I prefer Jamie though, over James.”

That sounded right. James was a much more formal name than that man should have had. James was the name of a king or a disciple or - _Focus, Beauchamp!_ She shouted internally.

“Yes, well,” she cleared her throat. “I really do need my badge for work. I’m surprised Mrs. Graham didn’t chase me down with a visitor badge already! Anyway, I was thinking of swinging by after school lets out. Will you keep it for me until then?” She tried to infuse her voice with professionalism but feared that it was coming off like simpering instead. It wasn’t as if she even had a reason to flirt with him. She didn’t know him at all. It shouldn’t have mattered.

It sort of did.

“I’ll have it handy for when you stop by later on. Or you could just get it in the morning on Monday when you get coffee,” his voice went up at the end of the sentence as if he was asking a question instead of telling her an option that was available.

“I feel naked without it though.” Naked. Poor choice of words. _Very_ poor choice of words.

“Oh. Really?” He sounded…Distracted? Interested?

“Um, yeah, I’ll come get it this afternoon, ok? Bye, Jamie!” she said too loudly and too quickly, hitting the “end” button on her screen before waiting for a response.

She shook her head and put her flushed, hot face into her always-icy hands. _Way to keep it together, Beauchamp._

* * *

Claire had basically flown out of school as soon as her contracted time ended. She had an armload of unfinished paperwork with her that she’d need to do over the weekend in order to be ready for work on Monday morning. She also had an attitude of disdain for those who thought teachers and therapists worked only six hours a day and had weekends off. That was completely false…though she did plan on not working a bit tomorrow, honestly. At the moment, she had to get her badge and get home in time to meet Fergus.

She had hoped that Fergus would be able to attend school where she taught but unfortunately, things hadn’t panned out that way. Claire’s district was one of the fastest growing and her school was already bursting at the seams so they didn’t accept variances for out-of-district students this school year. That meant, inconveniently, that Fergus had different days off than she did. It also meant, conveniently, that he got off school and rode the bus home, arriving after she did instead of needing childcare. But she had to be incredibly efficient and very prompt with her time or it didn’t work out.

By the time she navigated the school zone traffic, got stuck behind a school bus, and merged onto the main road, she was in nearly as much of a panic as she was in the morning on her way to get coffee. She was going to be late yet again, which seemed her lot in life as of recent times.

She swung into the parking lot, rounded the end of the aisle of parking spaces, and was just about to park in “her” spot (for all of one week) when she noticed the vehicle already there and slammed on her brakes.

“ _Shiit-_ ” she began, “ _-take mushrooms!_ ” If she wasn’t careful, Fergus and his swear jar were going to be very happy when one of her near-misses _actually_ missed.

Claire backed up a bit and took a different, nearby spot before entering _The Gathering_. Entering the shop she was greeted, not by Jamie as she’d expected (and hoped), but by a rather surly looking older man with a man-bun and a dour look on his face.

“Hello!” She plastered her _hi, I’m a teacher!_ smile on her face, hoping to get some reciprocity. Or even just some civility. His expression didn’t indicate there was much promise.

“Welcome to _The Gathering_ ,” came the most unenthusiastic welcome she’d heard in a long time, if not her whole life.

“Och, Murtaugh! You can’t be greeting customers like that,” James, no, Jamie’s voice hissed. He saw Claire and grinned. “So, I suppose you’ll be wanting yer badge and lanyard then, lass?” He reached under the counter and pulled out her missing items.

“I do! Oh, _thank you_ for noticing them and calling my school,” the words tumbled out in relief. She snagged the badge that Jamie was swinging back and forth in front of her on the hunter green Anderson Pemberton Elementary School lanyard.

He bent his head forward a bit and a few of his russet curls fell forward then, just like the first time she’d come in, he nudged a drink across the bar. “I figured if your afternoons are anythin’ like mine, you’ll be needing this. It’s yer regular drink but iced since the weather warmed up. I hope that’s fine.”

The man, Murtaugh, shook his head and said something under his breath in the background. It didn’t even sound like English to be honest, but the tone couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than exasperation.

Claire’s smile grew even larger as she accepted the drink. “You can’t keep doing this, you know.”

“I thought we established that, in fact, I can,” he shot back playfully.

“Yes, well, thank you again. Really. And I’m sorry, but I have to run or Fergus will get home before me and I really can’t have that!” As she waved goodbye she thought she glimpsed a bit of disappointment cross Jamie’s face.

That night before she went to bed the second to last thing she did was send a text.

_Thanks again for your help today!_

The final thing she did was look at the reply.

_At your service, Sassenach._


	4. Once Upon a Weekend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fergus and Claire spend the day together.

                                                            

Saturday morning. A day that teachers everywhere cherish. When Fergus had been small, he’d woken _so_ incredibly early, even on the weekends. Claire’s time to sleep late and take things slowly had completely disappeared with the small boy’s arrival. She wouldn’t have changed it for the world, but it had been a challenging transition for her after being alone for so long. Now, at age 5, Fergus would wake and play quietly in his room, reading to himself or drawing pictures on his small easel. Sometimes Claire would sleep a bit longer, tired from the week, but most of the time she woke nearly at the same time she did on weekdays. There was no rush on the weekend though. No pressure to get Fergus fed or dressed. No last minute packing of his homework or finding a library book that was due that should have been put in his backpack yesterday. Gone was the confusion of the mismatched shoes by the front door or the lost jacket that was actually left in the car and not, strictly speaking, lost.  Saturdays were days of rejuvenation.

She came out of her room rubbing her eyes blearily and headed to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. She did the same thing nearly every morning. She’d rise, go to the kitchen, regret not changing immediately, and scamper back to her room for more layers. She always turned the heat down at night to save on the bills. For as long as she could remember, she’d piled the blankets around her so she just continued to do that. Fergus always threw everything off no matter the temperature.

Now, bare legs extending from her tiny drawstring shorts and upper body ensconced in an oversized University of Washington sweatshirt, she shivered her way over to the coffee maker that was set to brew a pot of coffee at just the time she rose.

* * *

Fergus sat in the kitchen on the window seat, picture book in hand, silently observing and reading to himself. He grinned when he saw her.

“Morning!” he chirped with ever-present alertness.

“Good morning, love. Did you sleep well then?” she murmured to her sweet boy.

“Yes. I dreamed that we went on a field trip to the zoo and I got to work in the big cats exhibit because I became a zookeeper!” Fergus’ dreams had been consumed with the zoo ever since his teacher had announced they’d be going on a field trip at the end of the year.

“Did you then?” she asked. “And was it a terribly difficult job or were you able to handle it with ease?”

“Oh,” he shook his brown curls away from his cherubic face. “It wasn’t hard. I read a lot of books about it, so I was fine.”

“So,” she began. “I was thinking that we haven’t had a day out together since we last had the _same_ time off from school for break.”

Dark eyes watched her closely as she spoke. Fergus was an incredibly attentive child who paid heed to details and read emotions like they were black and white words on the page of a book. Incredibly attuned to the world around him, he was sensitive, compassionate, and fiercely loyal. His teachers at school loved him, his peers rallied to him. The child was most certainly a gift to the world and to those around him.

“I was thinking that it might be nice to go for a hike in the woods nearby, a short hike, or,” she paused dramatically, staring at the child whose eyes lit up like Christmas tree lights, “We could make a day of it and to to the-”

“The arboretum!” Fergus interjected with glee. His tiny body was wriggling with joy at the mere thought of a day spent together doing what they both loved.

“Yes, the arboretum!”

“Can we pack lunch to take with us? We can make sandwiches and put them in our backpacks so our hands are free and then we can canoe until we get hungry and then we can stop and eat and then we can look at the plants and growing things!” he rambled with enthusiasm.

“I think that sounds like the perfect plan. Will you get out four slices of bread? Then find what it is that you want on your sandwich and we’ll start getting everything together, yes?” At his nod, she headed back to her bedroom to lay out her clothes and grab her backpack from the depths of her closet.

Snagging her leggings from a drawer she tossed them onto her bed. Her closet held the shirt, sweatshirt, and the water-repellant jacket she planned to wear as layers for the inconsistent weather of the region, so she threw those on her bed too.

Fergus’ room, just the next door down, was small but organized. Claire found an outfit appropriate for him and laid it out nicely before going back to the kitchen to check on her boy’s progress with lunch.

He had bread placed on the cutting board, lunch meat from the frig, and condiments lined up. Two sandwich bags were there as well as two bottled waters, fruit snacks, napkins, juice pouches, and pre-sliced packages of apples. Clearly, Fergus was not wasting time.

It wasn’t long before they were on their way to the boat launch. The drive wasn’t short, but the trip was worth a day spent outside with her son and Claire didn’t mind _that_ part of it at all. Fergus entertained both of them in the car, sharing stories of his week at school about how Kyle had shoved Hallie on the playground and Mrs. Green had made him sit out at the next recess, of how Justice had gotten milk to come out his nose at lunch (“ _Please don’t ever do that,_ ” Claire had pleaded with her son), and how Tish, his 5th grade reading buddy and crush, had curly hair that reminded him of his her own curls.

One would have thought he’d have told all his stories by the time they rented their kayak, but he continued. Their trip through the lilypads was fascinating and peaceful. They both had always enjoyed the wildlife and Fergus got excited over the smallest things. He nearly tipped them over when they came upon a family of ducks.

“Hold on tight!” Fergus shrieked with glee as they made their way through the wake of a boat, bouncing over the crest. Claire did hold tight, thankful that they’d gone with a kayak instead of a canoe on this trip.

At last, they pulled their little boat onto the shore under the drooping branches of a willow tree to eat their lunch. “Hold still just a mo, Fergus,” she scolded gently as he, still clutching his sandwich in one hand, climbed over a rock, rain boots slipping, in pursuit of another bird. “I want to get a picture of you to remember our day.” She took one without waiting, the lifejacket scrunching up around his neck, his curly hair blowing in the breeze.

“Take one now, Mom!” He perched on the top of the rock posed, sandwich still grasped in his hand. “And one when I jump!”

“Ooh,” she cringed a bit at the jump off the rock but she tried hard to let him do things without much coddling.

The day was a treasury of moments. They explored until Claire thought it wise to head back before either of them got hungry for dinner. Once they returned their rented kayak, they stopped for fish and chips, then made the much quieter drive home as she regaled Fergus with stories of archeological digs she’d gone on with her Uncle Lamb.

A pajama-clad Fergus lay snuggled in his bed as she told him goodnight. “Thank you for our special day, Mom,” whispered her tired boy. He tangled his fingers in the curls at the nape of her neck and pulled her close, snuggling in.

“Of course, lovey. Time with you is my favorite,” she gently swept aside his hair to kiss his forehead, tenderly settled him on his pillow, then stood and went to his doorway.

“Love you, Mom.”

“Love you too, baby.”

* * *

Later that night her phone buzzed on the nightstand beside her bed.

_Nearly made your coffee today before realizing it was the weekend._

Before she could reconsider, she decided to respond.

_As much as I appreciate it, I was rather busy with Fergus_

A few minutes later her phone buzzed again.

_Seems a good reason to be busy._

She smiled.

_He’s all I’ve got._

_Then you ought to treasure that time, for sure,_ came the response.

And without realizing it, she felt as if she’d shown Jamie Fraser a bit of her heart


	5. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of Jamie's perspective...

                                                           

“Robbie!” he hollered up the stairs. “You have two minutes afore the bus will be here. Move it!” It was mere moments after eight in the morning and already his patience was worn thin.

“I’m ready. I’ve _been_ ready for _ever_. You don’t have to yell about it.” 

Ten-year-old Robbie scampered down the stairs with a scowl on his face and Jamie pressed back the urge to remind him that he _had not_ in fact been ready until just this moment. Instead, he breathed deeply and attempted to respond with maturity.

“Good job being ready on time, Rob. Out the door now,” he lobbed a jacket toward the boy who snagged it midair. “I love you. Do yer best today, yeah?”

“Yeah, ok,” Robbie agreed before mumbling a quietly embarrassed, “ _Loveyoutoo_ ,” and running down the driveway to the bus that was waiting.

Raising his own brother was likely the most difficult thing Jamie had faced in life. When he was 16 his family had come to Washington from Scotland, leaving behind his friends and the place he’d loved. His parents had joined Murtaugh in running a tea shop, William, his older brother, attended the University of Washington, and he went to the local high school and tried to fit in and find friends.

Life had been much the same as it had been in Scotland if he was honest. As a teen, he’d wanted to resent his parents for uprooting him, but he’d known that it was what their family needed to do to thrive. When he’d graduated high school, he’d begun courses at the UW like Willie in hopes of entering their school of business and helping his family run the shop. The summer he’d turned 19 he’d gone to South America to learn about Free Trade coffee bean production and he’d been inspired to begin something new in the tiny tea shop.

But while he was half a world away, Willie, Brian, and Ellen had been killed by a drunk driver in a tragic accident. Jamie cut his trip short to come back home and care for 5-year-old Robbie and the business that Murtaugh was running.

Over the next couple of years, he balanced school (and got his bachelor’s degree in business administration), work (and increased revenue by introducing coffee to the menu), and raising Rob.

Now things had settled into something of a routine. It was a routine that was missing something though.

And he’d only realized that when Claire Beauchamp had walked through the door of their shop.

He didn’t completely understand why, but the other day when she’d mentioned she had to get home to Fergus his heart had lurched to a stop. Her tone of voice hadn’t been concerning, but the way she’d implied she _had_ to get home before him or things wouldn’t go well had been distressing to him both because this Fergus had sounded controlling and because, well, because he _existed_. Jamie had half hoped there wasn’t anyone in her life important enough to rush home for. Yet.

He grabbed his wallet and used his keys to lock and deadbolt their front door before climbing into his car. Usually, he opened the shop in the morning. In order to make that feasible, Robbie spent the morning with the neighbors, the Elstons, who had twin boys in kindergarten at the same school as Robbie attended. They had decided to go on a trip (“ _To Disneyland, Jamie! During school!_ ” Rob had told him incredulously.) Instead of waiting for when everyone else would be traveling, they’d gone now. Which mean he needed to be at home until the bus came. Murtaugh traded schedules with him until things would return to normal.

He began planning the layout of his day as he drove, knowing that the shape of it would be slightly different. When he got in though, he wanted a _ristretto_ and the morning paper. Only then could he work.

Yes, things had settled into a routine. But it was a routine that was missing something that one Claire Beauchamp sparked.


	6. Time to Move

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire is moving...sort of...

                                                            

She’d been coming to the coffee shop earlier the past two weeks. She said traffic hadn’t been as bad lately. Murtaugh said traffic had been absolute hell and that “the lass” was just as smitten with Jamie as he was with her and that she must be coming in early just to talk with him.

But Jamie continued to be reserved. After all, he had Robbie to worry about and Claire had that Fergus fellow. As it stood, too much was between them for anything to come of trying to get closer to her. This morning, she’d come early yet again and had dropped a bombshell.

“We’re moving.”

He’d been steaming the milk for Claire’s latte, multi-tasking and trying to listen, but he picked up on that sentence for sure. His heart plummeted. That couldn’t be right. Claire, the woman who had come into this coffee shop nearly six weeks ago and had lit up the place like a beam of ethereal starlight couldn’t possibly be leaving.

Apparently, he either spoke words or made some sort of noise to that effect because she responded immediately.

“No!” she smiled reassuringly. “I meant _we_. At my school, you see?” She waved her hands about as she spoke. She always moved her hands. She had the longest, most elegant fingers aside from her left pinky which had a tiny bend in the last joint. He could glimpse it as she held her hands aloft.

“Oh, aye?” he asked casually, as if his heart hadn’t actually stopped beating mere seconds ago.

She giggled and he couldn’t help but relax the tiniest bit and smile back at her. “Did you actually just say ‘aye’? Do people even say that anymore?”

“I just meant that, well,” he struggled to string together a coherent thought. “Really? You and, um, Fergus, was it? You aren’t moving then?” His attempt to act casual was going very poorly. He could almost hear Murtaugh scoffing and he wasn’t even present.

“My son and I?” she shot him a glance.

Her look might have been surprised amusement over the tone of his voice (an unusually high pitched, nervous tone) or pleasure that he’d remembered the name of her son (who he hadn’t realized until this moment was her son and not a boyfriend). He was surprised by how much he could tell merely by watching her glass face.

“No, we’ve the perfect little place for the two of us. It’s the teachers at my school who are moving.”

It was his turn to shoot her a glance. He hoped he covered his surprise reasonably well. Fergus was her son then? Not quite the gerbil or puppy he’d been hoping for, but neither was he a hurdle to a future relationship as large as a boyfriend or, god forbid, a husband would have been.

“Do you have time to sit for a bit?” he waved at the empty tables. She nodded and led him to the chairs flanking the fireplace instead. He watched as she folded her long legs under herself and settled in.

“You were saying that you’re moving then,” he prompted. “But yer school, not yer family.”

“Oh, Fergus would be absolutely distraught were we to be the ones moving!” she exclaimed. She pulled out her phone and began swiping the screen, pulling up a picture of a fine-boned boy with brown curly hair and an impish smile. “He’s in kindergarten this year. I tried to get him placed at my school but they weren’t accepting variances, so it’s one schedule for him and a different one for me. One start time for him and one for me. He stays with our neighbors in the morning and I need to be there for him when school gets out and,” she paused to take a breath. “And I’m rambling.” She smiled at him and he laughed.

“I think all parents do that with their children once in a while,” he chuckled, preparing himself to share a bit of his life as well. He hesitated only a moment, then dove in to his complicated situation. “I even do that with Robbie,” the corner of his mouth twitched in a small smile. “It’s been just him and me since he was only five. All those things you just brought up, about being settled in a school, working around schedules, being there when he needs me,” he trailed off. “Well, I guess that’s just to say I understand and I didn’t think you were rambling at all.”

Claire’s head was tilted and she looked inquisitive, curious, as she half asked, half stated her next words. “So…Robbie is adopted?” she guessed. “Because Fergus is,” she offered. Clarified. “I don’t usually talk about it. It’s really nobody’s business anyway, but Robbie?” Her voice trailed off this time as she waited for the man before her to fill in the blanks.

“Robbie is my brother. There was an accident five years ago and now it’s just us,” he gave her the abbreviated version of the tragedy. “Us and Murtagh too as he’s my godfather.”

“I wondered how in the world you were connected and why you-” she stopped abruptly.

“Why we what?” he asked, curious now to find out what she’d meant to say.

“I’m sorry. I was about to say something terribly impolite,” she giggled and her cheeks turned a light pink under their dusting of freckles.

“Tell me anyhow. Honesty is good for the soul,” he teased her.

“Why in the world do you put up with him?” she burst out then plastered the palms of her hands over her mouth.

He laughed outright. “He’s family. We _have_ to put up wi’ him.”

An embarrassed smile graced her face and she was casting glances at him to see if her outburst really was ok.

“Murtagh always ran things behind the scenes before I ever began here. Even now he prefers to do that. There are times when staff members don’t show up on time or don’t come in at all and he steps in as needed. He isn’t always the most welcoming but,” he paused and looked directly at her. “The children are his favorite customers. He always smiles at them. Robbie adores him.”

“Sometimes I think you can measure what type of a person someone is by how much the children love them, “ she murmured softly. “I’m sorry if the way I spoke of him was harsh.”

“Don’t worry about it. He’s gruff but he has a heart of gold. _He’d_ probably help you move your classroom,” he chuckled, bringing the conversation back to safer, more impersonal territory.

“Oh _Go_ -,” she stumbled. _“Gosh_ ,” she finished lamely, thinking yet again of Fergus’ jar and her language. “That move is no joke!”

Then the bell over the door jingled and another customer came in. Jamie apologized to her quickly then raised himself out of the cozy chair and immediately went to greet the new patron.

The mood may have been broken, but Claire’s interest in Jamie was piqued.

* * *

“Do ye need me to get any other supplies when I head out today?” Murtagh waited for his godson to respond. And waited some more.

“Jamie?”

“Huh?”

“Has the lass been in again then?” Murtagh shook his head. And smiled.

“Claire? She was here this morning and,” he sighed. “Then she left.”

“Are ye daft? Of course she left! She’ll be back in the morning,” He lowered his voice and continued, “Earlier than ever.”

He sighed and looked at the lad. “Ye could just ask her out, no?”

“I, wha’? No, I dinna think…” Jamie slipped back to the accent of his childhood.

“I’ve tickets to see a game this weekend. Five tickets. Dinna ken what I’ll do wi’ them all anyway. Invite the lass. It could be fun.”

“She has a son,” he blurted.

“Aye, well, is that a problem?” He wouldn’t have thought it would pose any issue for Jamie. His godson had a compassionate heart and he loved children.

“No,” Jamie grinned at him. “I thought her Fergus was a boyfriend or husband. He’s her _son_.”

Reality dawned as Murtagh came to see what had been holding Jamie back.

“Weel then, now that ye ken that, ye can ask her out. Get to know her. And do yer job here wi’out distraction!” he teased. “Invite her to the game, lad.”

“Can we use all the tickets?” He knew that, if they were the usual tickets Murtagh had near his friends, there would be two seats in one row and three seats in the row below. And he h an idea.

“Ye have a plan then?”

“Aye.”

* * *

Claire picked up her phone, huffed after looking at the screen, and set it back down. She’d started to text Jamie multiple times but didn’t want to be too forward. She wanted to make sure that everything they’d talked about earlier was ok. She didn’t know why it wouldn’t be, but she wanted to make sure. Claire was adept at overthinking things.

She picked up her phone again just as she received a text and nearly threw it down in her surprise.

_Are you there, Claire?_

Oh yes she was. She shot back a message then cringed internally at her overeagerness.

_Are you busy on Saturday? Because I have tickets to the game._

She paused and thought before formulating a response. Jamie texted again, seemingly reading her mind before she even finished it.

_I thought Fergus and Robbie both would enjoy the outing and it’s something we can all do together._

Her heart glowed.

_For fun._

She started to type again and was interrupted.

_If you even want to, that is._

She sighed happily and hit the call button instead. Claire most definitely wanted _this_ , whatever it was.


	7. No Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie and Claire and company go to a game.

                                                            

The day dawned, and though ominous clouds filled the sky, Fergus’ spirits weren’t dampened in the least. He ran from his room into hers the moment he woke up.

“Mom?” he whispered. Loudly. “Mom? Do we need to get ready for the game? We don’t want to be late!” He had his elbows on her bed and his chin was cupped in his hands while he watched her.

She struggled to form a coherent thought other than merely “coffee.” It probably _was_ time to get up. 

“We’ll not be late, darling. There’s plenty of time for a nice breakfast then we have a few errands to run before we meet everyone to go to the game.” She whipped off the blankets, shivering, and swung her legs out of bed in order to pad into the kitchen.

Fergus’ joy over the upcoming events heartened her. She was trying to go into this with a good dose of reality while also keeping her heart open. She thought she _might_ want something more with Jamie Fraser but she couldn’t be sure if _he_ even wanted anything more. Having a child already _was_ more than many men were willing to deal with, but in essence, he already had a child too.

And the fact that children were involved, though she certainly didn’t resent it, made things infinitely more complicated.

She’d been burned more than once and wasn’t certain if she was willing to put her heart on the line yet again. It was nice, almost like a security blanket, that he had Robbie and she had Fergus. It wasn’t as if the boys would have been friends at such different ages, but it did mean that if the adults just enjoyed being friends with one another, she could probably handle any outcome.

It was awkward, her and Jamie. They’d seen each other every weekday for nearly two months and had, if they were being honest, flirted with one another every single one of those days. Each of them had assumed things about the other that had turned out not to be entirely accurate. If either of them ended up hurting the other, the children would know. There was no way around that. Yet there was this inexplicable magnetic pull that she felt toward Jamie. In her heart of hearts, she knew she would risk it all, reckless or not, to find out what it was between them.

She shook herself out of her reverie. “Fergus? Do you want to wear your jersey today?”

“Yeah! I’ll get dressed and you can make your coffee. Then,” he looked at her pointedly. “You need to tell me our plans for the day so I know what’s happening. I can help you keep track of the time. I can read a clock, you know.”

“I _didn’t_ realize you learned that!” she praised. “I knew you were just beginning to practice, but Fergus, you really _know_?”

He beamed with pride. “I can show you! Look!” he pointed to the wall above their stove which was home to an antique clock her Uncle Lamb had used when Claire was a child. She could remember it on their wall, could remember learning to tell time herself.

“It’s 8:30…” he trailed off. He scrunched his nose and Claire could see him counting the small tick marks. “It’s 8:32!” he finished triumphantly.

“Fergus, that’s marvelous!” she enthused. “Do you know what else it is though?”

“What?” He smiled as if waiting for her share a secret.

“Time for Saturday morning pancakes,” she smiled at her son’s little body wriggling with joy like a happy puppy. “Come now, let’s get to work. After we eat we’ll take care of things before the game and then we’ll have all evening to enjoy ourselves.”

_Five years old_ Claire thought to herself of her little boy. That’s how old Jamie’s little brother had been when they’d been orphaned. It made her wonder what he’d been like five years ago. It made her wonder where she and Fergus would be five years from now.

* * *

Claire and Fergus had gone to the Frasers house to meet Jamie and Robbie and drive together. The drive gave them all a chance to talk and get to know one another better. And it really _was_ simpler to carpool when going into downtown Seattle for a sporting event. The children had immediately hit it off with each other when they’d realized their jerseys matched. Now Robbie was enjoying being the big kid while Fergus was basking in the attention.

“Robbie has been waiting for this all day,” Jamie grinned as the boys ran in front of them on the sidewalk, touched a pillar in front of the stadium, then ran back giggling. In their vibrant green replica jerseys, they made quite a pair.

“Fergus woke me up this morning by whispering,” she laughed. “Well, _he_ considers it whispering, to remind me that we might be late for the game! This really is a marvelous idea, Jamie. And the boys both clearly agree and the game hasn’t even begun!”

“Do you think we’ll see Alonso or Roldan?” Fergus skidded to a stop in front of them and looked longingly at Claire then Jamie as if they could control who’d be starting in the game.

“I don’t know, darling. I thought you really wanted to see-” but she was interrupted by both boys.

“Dempsey!”

“Yeah,” Robbie asserted. “We need to see Clint Dempsey. He is _the_ best!” He gestured emphatically with his hands in a way that strongly resembled Jamie. It startled Claire a bit to notice how well she already knew Jamie’s mannerisms and how easily she could see them in his family.

“Ever,” Fergus agreed, bobbing his head and causing his curls to bounce.

They entered the stadium with the wide-eyed children and found Murtagh waiting at their seats.

“How shall we arrange this then?” asked Claire, looking at the three seats together in one row and the row above.

She could have been imagining it, but she thought Jamie’s face showed a bit of reluctance when he suggested that she and Fergus could sit together and the Frasers could sit together.

“But I want to sit with Robbie!” protested Fergus. “And with that guy too!” he pointed at Murtagh who grunted. Jamie shot her a look that said _I told you all the children love him_ then shuffled the boys off to go down that row.

“My mom can just sit with your dad then,” Fergus told the older boy as they scooted down.

Robbie’s eyebrows raised and he straightened the misconception out immediately. “He’s not my dad. He’s my brother,” he paused. “He’s just _really_ old for a brother.”

Claire overheard, snorted, and quickly covered her face with her hands. “You’re _really old_ for a brother,” she whispered at Jamie who scowled playfully.

They sat at first until they all realized that nobody actually did sit at these games. Murtagh ended up with his arm around Robbie who was standing on his seat and Claire had a grip of the back of Fergus as he stood on the seat in front of her.

At halftime, they all used the bathroom.

“Where are you going?” Robbie’s brow scrunched as he stared at Fergus.

“With my mom.”

“You can’t go with _her_ ,” the older boy tilted his head. “You’re like, in school and everything. You need to come with us.”

Fergus quickly dropped his mother’s hand and ran over to Robbie, Jamie, and Murtagh.

Claire stood there, a bit stunned, a bit nervous. As Fergus and Robbie entered the men’s restroom ( _Men’s! Not boy’s!_ ) she yanked Jamie to the side a bit roughly. “You watch him, James Fraser! He’s a baby. _Watch him_ and make sure nothing happens.”

Jamie, always calm, grasped both her upper arms in his hands and looked her in the eye. “I’ve got the boy, Sassenach. Trust me.” And then he left.

Claire was 100% certain that the line in the women’s restroom had _never_ been longer. When she returned, there were the Fraser men and Fergus swinging from Jamie’s arm as he and Robbie roughhoused with the big man. Her heart beat faster at the sight.

“Can we get churros? Please, please, _please_?” begged Robbie.

“Mom?” Fergus turned to her, echoing the plea with his eyes.

They soon returned to their seats. She and Fergus had churros to split ( _“But Mom! Robbie got his own, and lemonade!_ ”) and they were getting settled in their seats again. Fergus turned around and displayed a pout, just to make sure his mom knew his thoughts on the “churro incident.”

Jamie stifled a laugh but turned to her and met her gaze. “I’m sorry if I caused a problem back there,” he said under his breath so as not to be heard by the children. “Sometimes being Robbie’s big brother comes before I think about the fact that he doesn’t-” Jamie scrubbed a hand over his face then went on. “That he doesna have a dad anymore. So I spoil him sometimes when we’re doing things that we would have done as brothers. Sometimes it’s hard to figure out both roles and balance them.” He looked back at the game as the second half began as if he didn’t expect her to answer.

“Jamie, I didn’t think you did anything wrong. I just had to make a different choice for Fergus. Because I _am_ his mom, because he’s younger. We both have kids but it’s different for both of us. It has to be.” It made things tricky, spending time together, together as possibly more than “just friends,” but doing things differently. It wasn’t straightforward, both of them raising little boys, but not necessarily raising _their children_.

Jamie looked almost forlorn when he looked back at her. “It’s different for both of us and it has to be, but,” he paused. “Is different ok?”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “Different is ok.”

Murtagh moved over a seat at halftime allowing Fergus to stand on solid ground in the aisle so Claire didn’t have to steady him on his seat. It was then that Claire noticed Jamie’s arm thrown across her shoulders. She wondered how long it had been there. It felt right.

When they walked back to the car through the post-game crowd, Jamie had reached down without hesitation to pull Fergus into his arms so he wouldn’t get lost. The little boy linked his hands behind Jamie’s neck as they walked and Claire’s heart stuttered. Reflexively, Claire kept her hand on Robbie’s shoulder or grabbed for his hand as she watched Jamie lead them all and eventually they made it back to the parking garage.

Though both boys started off the car ride all wound up from the excitement of the game, they quickly fell silent. Robbie’s head kept dipping, at the edges of sleep, only for him to bob back up again. Fergus had completely succumbed to sleep and was slumped to the side in a way that would have made any adult cringe in anticipation of kinks in the neck.

When they reached Jamie’s house the adults got out of the car and walked to the front, leaving the sleeping children. He hesitantly reached out and took her small hands in his own. “I don’t want to assume, but this evening went really well, didn’t it?”

“It did,” she murmured in response.

“And I don’t want to overstep, but,” he hesitated this time. “We both want more of this. Right?”

“We both do,” she whispered back then allowed the words she was thinking to tumble out. There was no point in holding back. It would be like tearing off a band-aid. If they weren’t on the same page, it would hurt.

“I don’t know how to do this. I’ve dated other men,” she waited a moment before continuing. “That _is_ what we’re talking about, right?” Her voice actually trembled as she asked, “You do want to date me, right? You do want,” she paused again, “ _Me_?”

“Oh, Claire, I do,” his voice was soft but firm, immediately quelling doubts.

“Good,” she smiled a bit bashfully. “I’ve dated other men, but Fergus was a problem for them so things never moved forward. And from what I can tell, Fergus isn’t a problem at all with you. Maybe he’s even the opposite?” The last bit was posed as a question. She needed to know. She couldn’t possibly give any more of herself without knowing that her child’s heart was cherished as well as her own.

“Aye, Claire. You’re right,” he affirmed simply.

“There _is_ something between us, Jamie. And I want to find out what it is, but I’m scared. Not just for me and Fergus, but for all of us. You and I, we have to do this right.”

“I intend to.” Coming from anyone else that may have sounded cocky and foolish. Coming from anyone else it would not have been enough. But from James Fraser, a man of his word, it was a promise.

It was enough.


	8. First Moves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire moves classrooms and our favorite couple figures out how to deal with tricky situations together.

                                                            

Everything was different. First date, second date, and then Jamie and Robbie at her dinner table and in their house almost every day for more than a month. But it wasn’t as if things had been simple and straightforward either; they hadn’t.

There was the argument they had over discipline when she’d come back to Jamie’s place where she’d left Fergus to play with Robbie on one of her in-service days. She returned to find him in timeout.

“ _Jamie_!” she hissed at him. “ _You_ can’t punish him. He’s only five!” Once she’d calmed down long enough to listen to all the naughty things Fergus had done she was grateful that Jamie’s patience had lasted as long as it did. Reluctantly, she apologized for assuming the worst and thanked Jamie for caring enough to curb Fergus’ behavior.

Then there was the time when Claire had baked some of the food in Jamie’s freezer for the boys’ lunch. Jamie had gotten upset that she’d used the supplies for something “Fraser Friday,” a time when he, Murtagh, and Robbie always spent time together and now he’d need to get new food. He’d admitted almost immediately that she couldn’t have known that and he was overreacting.

They quickly realized that Claire was very stubborn and that Jamie was very…stubborn, particularly when it came to protecting their families.

The interactions between just the two of them were caring and passionate and, strange as it was to say, informative. Those seemed like such insufficient words to describe the ways one learns who another person is and how they begin to meld their lives into one.

* * *

“Can you lift that on your own or should we wait for help?” she asked Jamie as he shifted a much-too-heavy shelf, grunting dramatically.

“I’vegotit,” he burst out in a single puff of exhaled breath, dropping the edge of the shelf onto the handcart.

“I fucking hate moving so much!” Claire tilted her head back as if shouting to the sky.

“Don’t let Fergus hear you say that,” he chuckled. “ _Swear jar, Mom_ ,” he mimicked her little boy playfully.

“Oh, it would almost be worth it though. I loathe moving _that_ much! As much as I’m eager to have a nicer classroom and the technology updates, I really can’t stand moving.”

“I suppose that Robbie and I will need to move into your place someday then instead of the other way ‘round.” He was joking and she knew it, they both did, but his words carried an undercurrent of genuine questioning.

_Would_ they one day share a home and a family? She’d like to think so, but there were so many considerations other than just the fact that they were undeniably attracted to one another. “Attracted” didn’t even cover what was between them anymore. She had dared to show Jamie her heart on more than one occasion and he’d reciprocated. There was a level of trust, truth, that was soul-deep. Yes, someday there would be more, she knew. It was just a matter of figuring out how everything fit together.

“I suppose so,” she agreed and left it at that. “We’re moving a classroom right now though, so let’s do this before school begins again.”

“‘ _We_ ’ are moving a classroom?” he laughed outright. “I havena seen you pack a single thing in the last hour. It’s good you already had a head start otherwise not much would have gotten done aside from the heavy lifting.” He flexed his arms in jest.

He really _was_ strong. And attractive. _Focus, Beauchamp!_ She gave her head a shake and started grabbing things off her desk to put in a box.

“I worked for weeks to get thing packed!” she giggled. _He was completely right. She hadn’t packed a thing in ages._ “I needed someone to help with the rest of this stuff!”

“Explain this to me again,” Jamie started.

She already knew where he was going to go with his line of questioning. They’d been over it before in different permutations and combinations.

Why did teachers bring papers home to work on over the weekend? _Because if we did all of this during the week, I’d never see you!_

Did teachers really use their own money to replenish classroom supplies? _Who else was going to do it? I needed it for the kids so I bought it._

No lunch break today? Really? _I had recess duty and traffic duty. I didn’t get any breaks today. Everyone takes turns doing it, Jamie. It’s fine._

“You really are responsible for packing and moving your classroom on your summer vacation?” He raised his eyebrows incredulously.

“Yes,” she half laughed, half sighed. “I get a small stipend though!”

He shook his head at her and smiled. “Why don’t you go yell for Rob and Fergus to come and carry a couple of boxes and we’ll all take another load over to the new building?”

Both boys came running at her call and went to grab boxes. They’d been alternating between playing on the playground and helping move all day.

“Hey, Mom! Feel my head,” Fergus shoved his curly mop in her direction and she reached out to ruffle his hair before jerking back her hand with an exclamation of surprise. “I’m _so_ sweaty! It’s gross, huh?” he enthused.

Jamie snorted. She would have liked to think it was from the exertion of dragging around all the heavy classroom objects. Clearly, he was amused with her son though.

“We’re doing an obstacle course on the playground. Like, all across it,” Robbie interjected. “And it’s hot, so…” he shrugged.

“Well, I’m glad you’re having a good time but we need your help for a few more minutes. So, grab one of those boxes and let’s take them over to the new room,” she pointed at a massive stack of banker’s boxes filled with everything from wiggle seats to textbooks.

She had started packing the things she never used almost the moment the announcement was made that there would be classes moving. The rest of the items in the room she’d needed to pack once the students left for the summer and all the end-of-year paperwork was filled out and turned in. It had take the better part of a week to do that. Once packing was complete, it all came down to moving and she couldn’t do that on her own. Jamie and the boys had been helping out all day long…with playtime interspersed for Fergus and Robbie.

Robbie sighed then pulled a box into his arms. Fergus sighed, copying the older boy, and grabbed a box of his own before following the Frasers out the door and over to the new classroom.

The building smelled like fresh paint and new carpet. Several cables for the desktop computers hung from between the ceiling tiles and masking tape on one wall delineated the edges of where an ActivBoard would soon be mounted. The line between the linoleum floor and the carpet didn’t even have a transition strip yet. The room was pristine though, aside from what the Beauchamps and Frasers had moved in. It was going to be a lovely place in which to work.

She had the best moving crew on campus.

* * *

“Ok, are you ready? I waaaaaant, olives and pepperoni and loooooots of cheese!” Fergus declared as the young man on the other side of the counter added toppings to his mini pizza. Robbie had claimed a booth in the back of the pizza parlor and had asked Jamie to “just order my regular one, please.” Fergus had said that _his_ was far too complicated to trust anyone else to order it and had promptly ordered his pepperoni and olives.

They all settled in the booth, the adults with salads and a pizza to split, the children with their mini pizzas.

Only halfway through dinner Fergus was slumped over, asleep and Robbie didn’t look far behind.

“Well, I guess _you’ll_ have to share your highs and lows with me instead of Fergus doing it,” Claire told the boy.

“My what?” he smiled at her and tilted his head in a way that reminded her of Jamie.

“Highs and lows,” she repeated. “Something you’d rather not have to repeat, your low. And something you absolutely enjoyed as your high,” she explained. “Fergus does that before bed every night. I can go first if you want.”

“You go,” he waved his hand at her and sat back to listen.

“Well, I really, _really_ don’t like packing or moving so that’s my low for sure. My high is the helpers I had to get the job done though,” she smiled at him brightly. “Next!”

Robbie pointed at Jamie instead.

“Ok, my low was that bookshelf that _you_ ,” he narrowed his eyes at Claire and Robbie laughed at them. “Made me move. My arms will be sore for a week and I have a bruise on my leg!”

“Poor baby,” Claire crooned, prompting further giggles from Rob.

Jamie scowled and continued. “My high is this dinner. Food and favorite people. That’s pretty good. Now you go, Rob.”

“My high is dinner too. I love pizza!” he exclaimed. “My low hasn’t happened yet.”

“What is it?” Claire asked, curious.

“Well,” he lowered his voice to whisper. “Sometimes Fergus can be a little annoying. Sometimes. Not a lot or anything,” he clarified. “But I still don’t like saying goodbye to Fergus and to you. I used to not mind just being us guys at home, Claire. Now I like it with all of us a lot better.”

“I like it with all of us too, Robbie.”


	9. The Best You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When their boys get into a challenging situation, Claire and Jamie realize the need to figure out how to work together completely when it comes to raising Robbie and Fergus.

                                                              

“Mom?” came a little voice from the dark hallway.

Claire had been wrapped in a blanket against the chill of autumn as she sat on the couch and read to herself before bed. Fergus was already asleep, she’d thought. Apparently, she’d been wrong.

“What is it, love?” She unwrapped the blanket and he climbed onto her lap, twining his little fingers around her neck and into her hair. He sniffled and she felt a hot tear drip from his cheek onto her chest. “Oh, lovey.” She gently rocked to and fro, her arms around her growing boy.

“It’s just,” he sniffed again and started over with a quavering sigh. “It’s just that, remember yesterday when Robbie said he fell and got hurt when we were playing?”

“Of course I remember. You were so worried for him so we cleaned him up and made sure that he was fine and then you played some more.” She couldn’t see why he’d still be upset by a cut lip and some bruises. Those things happened, unfortunately, when you played in the woods behind their place.

“He didn’t fall down,” Fergus whispered. “Jack, the big kid, the one who is in 6th grade, he took my bike,” Fergus hiccuped and she tried to tamp down her inclination to interrupt his story and demand details. “Rob told ‘im ‘give it back’ and he wouldn’t. That was last week.”

_“Last week?_ Oh, Fergus, why didn’t one of you come and ask for help? You _know_ Jamie or I would have helped you, right?”

“Jack said to not tell or he’d hurt me and Rob,” he hiccuped again and Claire wrapped her arms tighter around him. “Yesterday Rob and I were coming to get you because Jack was throwing sticks and stuff at us _and_ he still has my bike. He hit Rob and said to keep quiet,” his little voice warbled. “And he wouldn’t punch Robbie again if we didn’t tell. But I don’t care if we can get my bike back because I don’t want Rob to get hurt!” he wailed.

“I hear you, lovey. I’ve got you,” she crooned soothingly, while her mind was running a million miles a minute. She’d call Jamie and they’d deal with it. Together. They could figure this out. “Jamie and I will take care of this from here on out. I’m so glad you told me, Fergus,” she pressed a kiss to his sweaty forehead. “You can _always_ tell me.”

“And Jamie? I can always tell him too? Right?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “You can always tell him too.”

“Mom, about Jamie and Rob. I want him, Rob, to be my big brother someday like when Tish my reading buddy got her new sister when her dad got remarried.”

She smiled at the abrupt topic change and mentally scrambled for responses and answers to the questions that were surely going to arise. _Big brother, huh?_

“He’d never be your brother though, no matter how things go,” she explained then began to laugh a the look of sheer sorrow. “Wait, Fergus. _If_ someday we were all one family,” because, though she and Jamie had talked about it some, she had never discussed the possibility of marriage to Jamie with her son, “He would actually be your uncle, I suppose.”

She laughed outright this time. Fergus looked horrified at the thought of “his Rob” being an uncle.

“But that’s weird!” He pulled away from her to look her in the face. “Are you _sure_ about that, Mom?”

“Um, well, _if… things_ happen that way I suppose he’d properly be your step-uncle,” she paused. “But we don’t know what the future holds, Fergus,” she cautioned.

“But I just wanted to make sure that my future has my bike and Rob. That’s pretty much all.” He looked at her straight on. “And Mom, I think your future would be better with Jamie because you’re a lot better at everything when he’s around.”

She kissed his forehead. “Everything, huh? Was I awful before him then?” she asked, half playful and half wondering.

“No!” He thumped his little head back onto her chest and snuggled in again. “It’s like what you tell me before school in the morning. To be the best me, you know? You’re the best you when Jamie is around. I like it, that’s all.”

“I like it too, lovey. We’ll talk about all that,” she reassured. “The bike and Robbie and things.”

“And the best _you_ , Mom!”

“Yes,” she smiled. “And the best me.”

* * *

_Hey, call me when you have some time, ok? I need your help with something._

She sent Jamie the text, tossed her phone on her bedspread, and went to brush her teeth. How were they supposed to discuss things like this let alone solve them? Robbie had been hurt while in her care, not by falling in the woods, but by a bully who she hadn’t even known existed. What would Jamie think of her, hearing that she couldn’t even protect the boys from another child?

He called right when she was working herself up.

“Sassenach?”

“Oh,” she somehow forced out before stopping completely. She heard him chuckle on the other end of the line, the sound of it reminding her of earlier that day. She couldn’t even remember what had been funny, but Jamie had laughed and pulled her close. She remembered the feeling of his strong body shaking in mirth and she began to relax a bit.

“I dinna think ‘oh’ is going to suffice if you’re looking for me to help you solve a problem,” he continued.

“Oh, no,” she smiled now. “It’s just that I don’t really know how to deal with something and I don’t even really want to admit that to you,” she paused. “Even though I _did_ just admit that to you.”

“Slow down and begin again Claire,” he advised. “You know that I’ll listen. I’m here.”

“Ok,” she took a deep breath and organized her thoughts. “I put Fergus to bed and thought he was sleeping when he came back out of his room in tears. He told me that the neighbor boy down the street took his bike.”

“Why the little-” Jamie began. “I’ll get it back for him, _mo nighean,_ ” he interjected.

“I know you will,” she whispered, smiling to herself. “But that’s not it, Jamie. Jack took the bike last week and Robbie has been trying to help Fergus get it back. Jamie,” she paused. “Robbie didn’t fall down in the woods, he was hurt by that other boy!”

There was a momentary silence. “Is Fergus sleeping now?” Jamie asked

“Yes. He was fine once I told him you and I would work this out together,” she explained.

“Robbie is sleeping too. He’s fine. We can talk more about this tomorrow and figure out what to do. I’ll go over to the boy’s house with you and we’ll talk to his parents. Dinna fash, our boys are fine and we’ll handle this.”

“Mmhmm,” she replied slowly.

“Claire? Is there something more?” he prompted.

“Does it bother you that I couldn’t take care of them properly? Robbie and Fergus? That I let them get hurt and didn’t even know _why_ or _how_?” she whispered her doubts to him.

“Yer a teacher,” he began. “I’m sure you’ve seen times when the best parents have missed things that seemed obvious to someone else. And I’m sure that didn’t make you think any less of them, right?”

“Yes.”

“It’s like that, isn’t it? You and I, we’re the best ones to care for our boys, even though we miss some things or make mistakes. _I_ didn’t know what was going on either, _Sassenach_. _I_ didn’t think to probe for more answers. This is just life and we do it better together.”

“Fergus said that as well,” she gave a tiny, hopeful laugh.

“What’s that?”

“That I’m the best version of me when I’m with you. You’re really fine with this? With my mistakes with,” she paused, “ _our_ boys?”

“I’m really fine wi’ it. I love you, Claire Beauchamp, and the things that life throws at us aren’t going to make that go away.”

“I love you too,” she whispered softly, reassured.


	10. Not So Subtle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie and Claire are meant for each other and everyone can see it!

                                                            

Moving forward, becoming closer, had come quite naturally to Jamie and Claire. Many questions that couples typically had to wade through had already been made as they’d built their lives before they met. Others were made together nearly by default alone.

While their friends and colleagues were having conversations with fiances and partners regarding whether they wanted children and how many to have, Claire and Jamie were talking about the children they already had and how to raise them. While others had to discuss whether they’d have enough money to buy a house and move in together after college, both of them already had places of their own and only Jamie’s was big enough to accomodate all of them. Financial stability? Debt? They were both, blessedly debt-free and stable. How important was religion to them? They were both already Catholic. Well, Catholic _-ish_.

In fact, folks were beginning to get impatient with how the two of them _weren’t_ moving forward _faster_.

“Mom?” Fergus had asked at dinner one night with all four of them seated around the table. “When are we going to move in here with Jamie and Rob?”

Robbie, apparently had taken it a step farther when Jamie had been putting him to bed one night.

“Sometimes I miss Mam and Da,” he’s explained, a little sadly. “Do you miss them too?”

“Aye. At times.” Jamie had replied.

“But what I’m really sad about is that since we don’t have parents, I’ll never ever be a big brother like you. It would be nice if I had someone younger than me who was like a little brother.” He paused then obviously interjected, Llike Fergus,” before abruptly hugging Jamie and telling him goodnight.

Then there were the times when the children seemed skillfully subtle in comparison to certain other people.

Just recently Murtagh, Robbie, and Fergus were in the middle of a board game perched on the low table in Jamie’s family room while Claire had been snuggled against Jamie on the couch. They’d spent a lovely afternoon and evening together putting finishing touches on the decorations around the house for Christmas which was fast approaching.

“So, godson,” Murtagh prodded Jamie. “Are ye bringing yer wife and bairns to Christmas Eve mass next week?” he had blurted out then barely paused before jumping in yet again. “Oh, that’s right. Ye dinna have a wife because ye havena asked the lass to marry ye yet.”

Claire had laughed aloud and buried her face in Jamie’s side, cheeks flushed. Jamie had tried to scowl at Murtagh but couldn’t help smiling as he felt the woman beside him shaking with giggles. _Soon. She_ would _be his wife soon._

“I think it’s rather safe to say that we’re headed in the direction that we could soon just move in together,” Claire told him one morning while they opened the coffee shop together as had become their routine. Jamie would pick Claire up in the morning, then he’d make her coffee before she drove his car to school. She’d come back after school and they’d make sure they were home for the boys.

“Not because Murtagh and the boys and,” he paused to release a dramatic sigh. “ _Everyone_ thinks we ought to though, right? But because you want to?”

“Or course!” she affirmed. “I think it’s rather funny how confident everyone is in us.”

“I’m more confident than everyone else,” he boasted, almost childishly, making Claire chortle.

“Confident enough to ask me to marry you one of these days?” she teased him. They’d discussed it plenty. They both knew what they wanted. She was just waiting for him. And _waiting_.

“One of these days,” he smiled that heartbreaking smile and bobbed his head causing his russet curls to tumble across his forehead.

“When that day comes, I’ll say ‘yes’” she reminded him in a whisper. “I’ll always say yes to us, Jamie.”

* * *

They _had_ all attended Christmas Eve mass together then come back to crash at Jamie’s place. Murtagh had immediately gone to the guest room, emitted a perfunctory “Happy Christmas Eve,” and had flung the door shut behind him.

Fergus and Robbie had insisted they were going to stay awake and see if they could see Santa show up. Confidentially (and with a maturity she found quite adorable and endearing), Rob had shared with Claire only days before that he was _much too old_ to _actually_ believe in Santa Claus but was willing to play along for Fergus’ sake. They’d fallen asleep with their heads under the Christmas tree, looking up into the lit branches and whispering stories to one another.

From their nest of blankets on the couch, Claire and Jamie watched their boys giggle and talk. Once the boys fell asleep they placed a few presents from “Santa” under the tree then snuggled in the much-too-crowded space once more and fell asleep as well.

Murtagh woke first and went to the kitchen to begin making breakfast for the whole lot of them, the smell wafting through the house. When Claire finally woke she found Jamie, completely still, watching her.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” she whispered, her voice husky.

“I wanted to watch you sleep, mo chridhe,” he returned, his voice equally soft. “And I’m guessing I’ll never get much of a chance to do that,” he tossed his head in the direction of Robbie and Fergus who were beginning to stir. “So I wanted to take advantage of the moment.”

He wrapped his arms tighter around her and she rested her head against him once more and dozed off until Fergus roused everyone with his excited shouts of “It’s Christmas everyone!” and “Time to open our presents!”

Claire nearly cried with joy watching the men and boys, _her_ men and _her_ boys, in their gleeful abandon that morning. Fergus and Robbie tore open wrapping paper and celebrated what others received in equal measure.

“Do you love it, Jamie?” Fergus asked, eyes imploring, as he stood on the back of the couch smashed behind the red-haired man, arms encircling him from behind. “When Mom and I were at the bookstore I saw it and it made me think of how much you love soccer. Or _football_ ,” he corrected hastily, using the term the rest of the world employed.

“I do love it, and so much the more because it came from you,” he assured the boy then reached behind him to flip the lad into his lap prompting shrieking and uproarious laughter.

After all the gifts had been opened, shared, and admired, they sat down to breakfast. Murtagh brought out a giant stack of pancakes accompanied by eggs and sausage and some pastries. He served Claire what she thought was going to be a normal cup of coffee but that contained _something_ alcoholic as well. He whispered conspiratorily in her ear that Jamie “wouldna agree to selling it at _The Gathering,_ ” because they didn’t have a permit to sell alcohol but he’d named the drink already just in case: _The Sassenach Wench_.

As they sat together, Murtagh tossed and envelope across the table to where Jamie and Claire sat hand in hand.

“For the two o’ you. Sort yerselves out,” he muttered, seemingly grumpy though they all plainly knew otherwise.

Jamie slid his hand from hers and reached out to tear open the envelope and show Claire the contents.

“Oh Murtagh,” Claire sighed happily and got up to round the table and kiss his cheek. “What a sweet gift!”

“Och, dinna make a fuss,” he waved his hand. “I’ll stay wi’ the lads as well.”

“What is it, Claire?” Robbie craned his neck in her direction to see if he could tell.

“A wee trip for two to stay in a cabin in the mountains,” Jamie told him.

“And we get to stay with Murtagh?” Robbie asked happily, shooting a sneaky grin at Fergus whose face also displayed a look of mischief.

“Aye ye wee fiends,” Murtagh said making Fergus and Robbie laugh yet again.

“Seriously, I wish it was Christmas every day!” Rob smiled and settled back in his chair, looking around the table.

“I will honor Christmas in my heart,” Murtagh began.

“And try to keep it all the year!” finished Jamie and Claire with him.

“I think we all have something to read together today,” Claire stated. “That can be our new tradition. Reading _A Christmas Carol_.”

“Tradition means something you do over and over again right, Mom?” Fergus asked.

“Yes, love. That’s what it means,” she confirmed.

“Good. Because I want this tradition to last forever.”


	11. Interlude 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit about Murtagh's Christmas present for Claire and Jamie.

                                                          

_Sometimes being in love_ was _like a fairy tale_ she thought to herself. Claire Beauchamp had been with other men. Not many, but enough to know that what she and her Scot had was different.

She rolled onto her side so she could lie her head on him, pressing her cheek into his chest, basking in the afterglow of their joining. Striving to keep that _oneness_.

For Christmas Murtagh had given them the gift of a weekend in a cabin in the Cascades. “I’ll take care of the lads as well as the shop. I dinna want ye to keep any of us waitin’ any longer to figure out what it is between the two of ye. We’ve all got eyes and we ken where this is going. Get away and figure it out yerselves,” he’d demanded.

So they’d driven, tires chained, through the snowy foothills to the cozy winter cabin. The retreat had given them time and opportunity to talk and focus on themselves, without the children. It was a chance to dig deep and hold tight. This was a chance to truly connect.

“Are ye well then, mo nighean donn?” Jamie whispered to her, his accent strong. Over the months they’d known each other she’d come to realize that his accent grew more pronounced when he was emotional. It moved her to know that he felt it as well.

“Mmhmm,” she replied.

Slowly, as if they were moving underwater, his hand rose to tangle in her hair. Gently he twined his fingers through the locks where moments ago he’d clung.

“And happy too?”

“So happy, Jamie. I scarcely want to breathe for fear of ruining it,” she revealed, pressing herself closer to him.

“I don’t think our love is _that_ fragile,” he smiled down at the top of her head. She could feel it in the way he held her. “Maybe once a breath would have shattered it, but no’ now. What we have between us is something much stronger,” he paused. “Isn’t it?”

It wasn’t a pleading question that begged for reassurance. It was very much a statement, a reminder of who they had become.

“It is. When did you first know it though?” she turned enough to prop her chin in a hollow near his sternum.

“Och, I knew it the moment you walked into my shop and told me yer name. ‘Claire,’ I thought. _‘Light._ That’ll be the woman I marry, the one who is mine.’” He chuckled with mirth. “And you, Sassenach? When did you know?”

“It wasn’t as soon,” she sighed. “But I think the start of it was when I told you I was moving,” she laughed musically. “The look on your face told me I hadn’t been imagining things after all!”

She kissed him then. Could feel his heart beating against her ribs, and wanted nothing more than to stay there forever, not moving, not making love, just breathing the same air.

Yes, sometimes love was like a fairy tale. But even fairy tales have wicked witches, ugly stepsisters, and poison apples.


	12. Departure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An abrupt problem prompts an equally abrupt departure.

                                                              

“Claire? Are you there?” the noise emitting from the new intercom system in her classroom was loud and clear. _Overly_ loud, in fact since Mrs. Graham still hadn’t gotten used to the fact that this new system actually worked and had a tendency to shout a bit still.

“I am, yes,” she confirmed.

“Oh, well, your Jamie called the office and asked if I could tell you to call him as soon as the students left.” Anxiety and tension roiled in Claire’s stomach immediately and she attempted to stem it with some calming breaths. Jamie never called the office. Ever.

Mrs. Graham hastily continued as if anticipating (correctly) that Claire might be concerned by that immutable fact. “He said to tell you the lads are fine he just needed to speak with you as soon as possible. Said it wasn’t anything you could take care of, but he’d feel better speaking to you and having you near.”

“Oh… good,” Claire let a small sigh of relief in regards to the boys escape from between her pursed lips in a puff. “I’ll call him right away and find out the whole story. Thank you, Mrs. Graham.”

As soon as the other staff member finished on the intercom, Claire snatched her cell phone from inside her desk drawer and had begun to call Jamie. It really wasn’t like him to have contacted the school. If he wanted something, he’d text her and wait until her contracted hours were up. His decision here seemed to indicate a sense of urgency. An urgency that Claire rather hoped she was imagining as her stomach flip-flopped again in response to the adrenaline pumping through her system.

The phone rang and rang. And rang. Suddenly Jamie’s voice sounded in her ear.

“ _Sassenach_?”

“Yes, it’s me, Jamie,” she blurted out in a rush. “What is it? Mrs. Graham said you called the school and I thought it might be about one of the boys but she told me…” she trailed off then began again. “Well, I didn’t know what to think. What’s going on?”

“I think it would be best if ye came down to the shop instead of going home, yes? I’d like it if you were wi’ me just now.” His voice sounded strained and she wondered what exactly was causing the tension.

“Of course I’ll come. But Jamie, _what_ is going on?” she pushed.

“Weel, I think,” she heard him exhale loudly in frustration, could imagine him scrubbing his hand over his face as he did sometimes when he was tired or couldn’t express himself well. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to stay here. I think I’m going to have to go back to Scotland for a time.”

She felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her. Maybe something had happened with his cousin and he needed to go back and be with her? Or perhaps there was an old friend who’d invited him back for a reunion of sorts?

“Please, Claire? I want you here wi’ me,” he implored before her mind could wander and further.

“I’m on my way.”

* * *

The traffic was pleasantly and uncharacteristically light as Claire made her way to _The Gathering_ , which was good because she didn’t think she could handle the tension and the traffic combined. Before she’d jetted out of school she’d sent a text to their neighbor who watched Fergus in the morning and asked if the Elstons could watch him for a bit until she got home as well. She knew that he’d be content with them and she could stay with Jamie as long as necessary.

She drove into her parking spot and put the parking brake on. Before leaving her car she pulled her hair from the ponytail that had been too tight all day long and was giving her the start of a headache now. Jamie preferred it when she let her hair down anyway.

Walking into the shop she spotted Jamie seated at one of the many tables. Across from him sat two men attired in suits who looked decidedly uncomfortable as they spoke to Jamie who looked decidedly crestfallen. She crossed to his side quickly and placed her hand on his arm as she lowered, or more accurately _dropped_ due to her wobbly knees, into the seat next to him.

With the seriousness of everyone’s demeanor she expected the topic of conversation to be something like she’d wondered before, about Jenny or her family in Scotland or maybe somehow about the business.

“Miss Beauchamp, I presume?” the man on the left held his hand out.

Claire reluctantly took it and shook it firmly. “Yes.”

“We were just telling Mr. Fraser, a Scot, that the terms of his visa do not permit him to work here, the United States, and own a majority portion of this business.”

“But,” she sputtered in shock attempting to keep up. “But why _now_? He’s been here for ages. Has been working for ages!” she argued, knowing the futility of doing so.

“Yes, well, his visa actually didn’t even permit him to be a minority shareholder in _The Gathering_ and work here either but when the primary ownership was transferred to him this last December he was flagged in our system and his offense was brought to our attention.”

The second many looked at Claire from the corner of his eyes. “You are a citizen though, correct?”

“Yes,” she spat back hotly, prompting him to sit back in his seat farther and hold his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

“It’s just that if _you_ were the owner it wouldn’t be an issue. Or if he was married to a citizen, it wouldn’t be an issue. But you see, it _is_ a problem because of the constraints of his visa.”

The next hours passed in a blur. In all honesty, things were simple and completely clear though terribly frustrating and undesirable. Claire would continue to argue that it was illogical, that Jamie had been working there already, that his family and Murtagh had built the business from the ground up. None of her arguments mattered to the government.

After they closed the shop for the evening she sulked like a child about how unfair it was. She felt positively ill. Jamie had never done anything wrong and he shouldn’t be punished for it, removed from them and this life.

Jamie repeatedly, patiently reminded her that he’d come into the business unexpectedly and, no doubt, things _had_ been overlooked in the process. It was unfortunate that those oversights had been discovered now, but discovered they had been. There was nothing else to be done for it aside from taking the proper procedures to ensure that he could return to own and work at _The Gathering_.

Jamie needed to go back to Scotland or else be sent back. He needed to line things up, fill out all the right forms, apply for the proper permits and await approval before returning. Robbie would stay with Murtagh, at least until Spring Break, so he could stay at his school and have as consistent a life as possible. Unfortunately, the whole process was slow and for Jamie, the thought of separation from Rob, even if it was temporary, was difficult.

Then there was separation from wee Fergus.

And Claire.

* * *

“It’s time for bed, lovey,” Claire called softly to her pajama-clad little boy who was reading at the kitchen table where he’d had a cookie and glass of milk as a bedtime snack.

“Can I finish my chapter, Mom? _Please?_ ” he implored, lovely eyes begging just as much as his voice.

She sighed and rolled her eyes playfully. She’d created a monster. A voracious book-reading little monster. “Yes, but why don’t you hop into bed and I’ll read it with you, then we can talk, ok?”

“Ok!” He snapped the book shut on the bookmark and put his dishes in the sink then ran, bare feet slapping the floor, to go brush his teeth.

Claire grabbed the worn book off their table, the table that she and Jamie and the boys had sat around so many times this past year and pondered how in the world to explain to her son the prolonged absence of Jamie from their lives. She sighed and rubbed her chilly arms with her hands, goosebumps forming both on them and her bare legs.

They settled on Fergus’ bed, ensconced in blankets and enthralled by the final pages of the chapter. When they finished reading Claire gently closed the book and placed it on the bedside table and turned back to her son. “Fergus?”

“I can tell something happened, Mom. Something made you sad but you don’t want me to be sad so you’re pretending. But I’m pretty strong, actually, so you can talk about it,” he patted her arm.

She nearly laughed at his words. It was just like her little man to offer to share someone else’s burden. “I’m afraid I am sad, though it’s not something we can do much about except wait and see it through,” she began. “Jamie has to go back to Scotland. Maybe for a couple of weeks but probably for a couple of months at least. He has some things that need to be taken care of and he can’t stay here unless he has a different visa,” she paused. “You know what that is?”

“Of course! Because of watching the news with you. I pay attention to stuff like that,” he shot her a look.

“Ok,” she gave him a brief smile. “Well, Jamie can’t stay unless he has the proper visa or unless he becomes a citizen. So, he’ll need to leave for a while until that gets worked out.”

She could almost see the wheels turning in the boy’s mind.

“If we adopt him like you adopted me, could he stay here then?” the boy inquired. “Or we can write to the president to get him to change the laws. They’re problematic,” he parroted the words she’d said only days before while watching a report on immigration. _He_ did _pay attention to stuff like that indeed_.

“Unfortunately, neither one of those is an option to help our situation right now,” she told him.

“If he was part of our family, we could protect him though!” Fergus argued, scooting closer to her in the bed.

Long past bedtime she continued to answer questions for which she had no good answers.

* * *

Jamie was going to take a cab to the airport though both Claire and Murtagh had offered to drive him. He didn’t want this to be any more difficult. It was a temporary situation, however undesirable, and he’d made it very clear to all of them that he intended to be back with them as soon as he could.

Claire had insisted, as everyone knew she would, on seeing Jamie off. Only moments before his departure they sat on his front porch in the brisk winter air of the morning, talking as if it was just a normal day that would be spent together when Claire turned to him abruptly, eyes filmed over with tears.

“Jamie,” she whispered. “I love you. And you love me, right?” She wasn’t begging for an answer as much as reminding him of what they both knew was true.

“Of course,” he scrunched his brow as he looked incredulously at her. “Do you even need to ask?”

“And we’re going to spend our lives together, right? After we figure this all out?” she continued, not answering him.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can. We’ll be fine, Claire. Being apart willna change what I feel for you,” he reassured her.

“Then, Jamie, marry me now. You _know_ that’s what we’re going to do anyway. I don’t need anything fancy. I don’t need a big guest list or a dress with a train. I need _you_ and that way I can _keep_ you!”

“Claire,” he chuckled gently and she stiffened. “I’ll be back before you know it then we can talk of this and make our plans. I’ll call ye when I land, Sorcha. I love you.” Then he kissed her, solidly, deeply. He pulled her small body close to his and sheltered her there against his heart.

And then he picked up his bags, got into the cab, and left her standing there alone.


	13. Pride Goeth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just make sure you read the previous chapter before this one, ok?

                                                           

Claire _knew_ why things had unfolded the way they had. Likely, she could have anticipated exactly what had happened given how well she knew Jamie now.

She flung Jamie’s front door shut behind her none too gently.

The man she was going to spend the rest of her life with had just left to go to a different continent for an undetermined length of time immediately after she’d suggested they get married. She probably should have been heartbroken but instead, Claire was mad enough to spit nails. She suspected she knew why he’d left.

“ _Bloody_ Scot and his _bloody_ sense of honor,” she fumed, flinging herself onto Jamie’s couch where she was going to plant herself until Robbie woke up or Murtagh got there to take over for her. “Such an arse,” she crossed her arms over herself, huffing an angry breath out through her pursed lips.

Honestly, she was a bit heartbroken, but being angry at him made it easier.

She launched herself off the couch and stalked to the kitchen in spite of her resolve, only moments ago, to stay planted on the couch and sulk. She went also in spite of the fact that she wasn’t hungry in the least.

Opening the fridge, she glanced quickly over the contents before shoving the door shut with more force than was completely necessary.

Luckily for Claire (and for the doors in Jamie’s home), Murtagh arrived then, took one measured look at Claire’s flushed face, and sat down with a sigh.

“What’s the lad done now?” he asked, completely monotone, as if resigned to the fact that his godson did things he deemed foolish on a reasonably regular basis.

“I suggested that we could just get married now so that he’d be able to stay, or at least so he’d be able to be back here _sooner_ and he _laughed_ , said it would happen soon enough, and went to Scotland anyway!” She was bordering on hysteria now, which was ironic considering that she still had no doubt things would work out, if not on her timeline. She couldn’t help herself.

Murtagh rolled his eyes then scrubbed his hands over his face.

So _that’s_ where Jamie had acquired that habit.

“The lad’s an eejit. Ye ken he’s had an engagement ring in his pocket since afore Christmas, aye?” He raised a single brow toward her in inquiry.

“He’s what?” She stilled abruptly, her agitation ceasing and morphing instead into confusion.

“Jamie’s in love wi’ ye and he’s known it for a good while now. If he walked away from ye it’s because of his-”

“Pride,” she inserted forcefully. “I know. But why? Is it because I’m a woman and I ought to be proposed to instead of being the one proposing? If so, he should know that’s utterly ridiculous!”

Ok, so she wasn’t _only_ confused. She was still angry too. Claire briefly pondered how convenient it would be if her emotions could choose a single focus and just stick with that.

This time Murtagh rolled his eyes at her instead of Jamie. “‘Tis not the proposin’ itself,” he sighed. “He doesna want to marry to save himself! He wants to give you and yer wee lad a name and a family, protection if ye need it.”

“But,” she sputtered. “But that’s preposterous. He can still give us those things regardless!”

“I ken that. What are ye going to do about it?”

Claire promptly went home, packed a bag, and boarded a plane for Scotland.

* * *

She knew he’d be staying with his cousin Jenny and her husband, Jamie’s best friend, Ian. They’d discussed that before he’d gone in their many hurried conversations over how to fix things. She had their telephone number as well as an address. Once she had gathered her luggage she immediately provided that address to the driver of a cab and settled in, to once more attempt the wrangling of her sporadic emotions.

She bounced her knees as nervousness coursed through her and she clenched her hands over her once-again, rolling stomach.

And suddenly she was there on the front porch hurling herself into her man’s arms as if they’d been apart for 20 years instead of mere hours.

“Sassenach,” he whispered. “I-”

“No,” she blurted out. “No. I get to talk first this time, Fraser,” she wagged a finger at him and realized she was using her “teacher voice” which, likely, was not the best way to approach him.

“But I-” he began again.

“ _Not yet_ ,” she shushed him more gently this time, placing the wagging finger on his lips. “I love you, James Fraser, and that’s all there is to it. If you turned me down because you had doubts about us, I’d try to give you time and space, try to be understanding though I have no misgivings.” She said each word softly but succinctly. “But if you’re doing this because of some bloody, outdated sense of chivalry in which you think you have to rescue me then please, please, hear me out.”

She reached out to him once again before continuing. “Don’t you know?” She said very softly, tracing the small, neat line of his ear. Tiny, stiff blond hairs sprouted in a tiny whorl from the tagus, tickling her finger. “Don’t you know? That it’s you. Not what you can give, or do, or provide. Just you.”

“I made a mistake in leaving you and I know it and,” he paused and looked around. “Could we maybe come inside? I have a feeling we’ve a lot to talk about.” 

The look he gave her then was filled with tenderness and love and Claire could feel the anxiety and tension begin to fall away as he pulled her through the door, dragging her luggage behind, then led her to a couch where he sat by her side, their thighs pressed side by side.

“I dinna want to distract from our conversation but I need to ask. Did you listen to the messages I left? I think they may explain things better than I can at the moment,” he gestured to the pocket where she most often kept her cell phone and watched as she fished it out and noticed the voicemails.

Jamie watched her face intently as she listened to the first message. As soon as he’d landed he’d call to let her know he was safe in Scotland. He’d apologized, gently and passionately, for leaving the way he had. Asked her if she could forgive him. Reassured her that he never once doubted them, only doubted that he himself was enough for her.

The second voicemail soon followed and with it began the welling tears in Claire’s eyes. He had rambled on explaining how, though it might spoil some things, he wanted her to know he’d been carrying around a ring for a while now, planning the perfect moment to propose. His voice, husky with emotion, explained that she was the only one for him and they’d overcome enough already that he knew they would work this out.

Finally, message number three had been left only a minute after the one prior and was short and succinct. “Oh, I almost forgot. I love you and I canna wait to marry you, Claire Beauchamp. Be it now or in a few months time, it will be forever.”

She sat looking at him, searching for words. Sometime in the last few moments, he’d moved off the couch to kneel before her, ring in hand, waiting for her response.

“Marry me, Claire?” he said simply, his voice husky with emotion, all the planning and perfection and distractions stripped away.

Within an hour, she had gone from anguish at the thought of losing him in Scotland, and from that to a pronounced urge to hit him on the head with an oar. Now she was back to tenderness and it was all she could do to rasp out a yes past the tears that were crowding her throat.

At last, she took one of his big, calloused hands in her own, turned and slid sideways to straddle his lap. She laid her head against his chest and felt his breath stir her hair. She had no more words, but she had made her choice long ago and Jamie knew it too.

“I want very much to kiss you, Claire. May I do that?” he whispered to her. At her nod, his lips finally met hers.

“Ye could at least introduce me to yer lass, cousin,” the voice of one Janet Murray abruptly interrupted them as a flushed-faced Claire scrambled off Jamie’s lap and flopped rather ungracefully onto the couch beside him.

* * *

After their less-than-auspicious introduction, Claire was surprised to find that she rather liked Jamie’s cousin. Though blunt to the point of being brutal, Jenny had a sharp mind and a quick wit and as they explained their story she was able to see through any distractions and whittle things down to the simple truth. Once their story was told, the mood lightened even more.

Ian, Jamie’s best friend had come home from work and his presence brought a levity to their company. It was clear that, though time had passed, Jamie and Ian were the type of friends to whom that did not matter.

It warmed Claire’s heart to see her man like this. There were certain places or activities where Jamie seemed to become even more of himself. One such time was when he was running his shop, completely in charge, implementing something new or helping someone. Claire loved watching him in those moments.

As they ate dinner together, frequently pausing to laugh or interject comments, Jamie’s hand wandered over to settle on Claire’s still-bouncing, slightly nervous knee. Though she was sure nobody could see, Claire caught a knowing glance from Jenny.

It was over dessert that things headed in the dangerous direction from which they’d begun.

“So,” Jenny began. “Are we to plan a wedding for the two of ye then?”

In perfect unison, they joyfully answered.

“Yes!”


	14. Good as a Fairy Tale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our story draws to a close.

                                                            

They’d spoken their vows to one another as Claire had lain in Jamie’s embrace the night she arrived in Scotland. The emotional turmoil of the last days was still there, but it was deliberately set aside. Neither one of them was naive enough to assume that ignoring the reality would make it disappear. No, they knew full well that life would continue to chip away at whatever they built together. It was a choice to vow fealty to one another in spite of the many ways the universe might conspire against them. In that moment, it was just the two of them.

Whispered words were said in the darkness with all reverence and love. There they pledged themselves to another, pledged to continually find ways to make their lives fulfill the mystery. How can two lives built in such independence be melded into one? Two people become one flesh yet not lose anything of themselves but instead become more?

And two hearts made whole began beating as one.

Now, a few weeks later, their vows were those of tradition, spoken before witnesses. Words that were timeless, immutable, resolved. Words no less precious due to formality but treasured instead for their heritage and legacy.

* * *

Chaos instead of joy reigned supreme before the wedding.

“Stand still ye wee rascal,” Murtagh settled his hand on Fergus’ shoulder to still the fidgeting boy. Running a comb through his hair, the gruff man attempted to create some semblance of order in the unruly curls covering the lad’s head.

He’d brought both the boys to Scotland for the occasion knowing that Jamie and Claire would never get married without their boys being present. Packing and flying with them had been thoroughly exhausting as both Robbie and Fergus seemed to have boundless energy and close to zero self-control. In reality, they were completely thrilled about the wedding and could hardly contain themselves.

Presently, Robbie sat across the room from Murtagh and Fergus in front of a mirror attempting futilely to properly tie a necktie until Murtagh could come to his rescue.

While the man struggled with the boys, confusion reigned elsewhere as well.

“ _Why_ do people think that teachers can stand in front of crowds and not get nervous?” Claire was pacing back and forth, fanning herself with her hands while Jenny attempted to calm her down. “I mean really, does anybody honestly think it’s the same thing? Standing up in front of a church full of people and standing in front of a classroom? Because it’s not,” she asserted to Jenny. “It’s just not.”

She hadn’t eaten breakfast that morning because she’d been queasy. Now she felt lightheaded because of it. She should have eaten when Fergus called her out on it.

“You always tell me to have some protein, Mom. We both get sort of cranky when we don’t have it,” he’d reminded her.

Meanwhile, Jamie had a conundrum of his own. He’d unluckily seen his bride. Claire didn’t know he’d seen her in her wedding dress. _Ifrinn_ , she was gorgeous. But now he’d gone and seen the bride before the wedding.

“D’you really think it’s bad luck, man?” Ian probed. “It’s not as if ye havena been wi’ her the whole time ye’ve both been here in Scotland…and before that. It’s not as if ye were a pair of virgins on yer wedding night. Is it really bad luck to spy her ‘round a corner?”

“ _I_ dinna ken, Ian!” he breathed in frustration. “It’s stupid, but we’ve had enough bad luck recently that I dinna feel like tempting fate.”

“What do you do to un-see her anyhow?” Ian continued, unhelpfully.

“How am I to know?” Jamie snapped back. “Mebbe I’ll ask Auntie Jo. She’s been married enough times that one of the uncles is bound to have seen her.”

He was still emotionally raw from the fiasco only hours before where his tux had been lost by the cleaners. He’d been wringing his hands with worry until Claire found him, kissed him soundly, and said if he wore a kilt and she could stare at his knees it wouldn’t hurt her feelings at all. When they’d miraculously found his suit he’d debated whether or not he should even wear it after her declaration.

Additionally, Claire had her own mishap with her dress which was suddenly too tight. Jenny had found several pins left in a seam. Once they’d been removed, all was well.

Though those who didn’t know better may have thought the wedding was thrown together or haphazard, nothing could have been further from the truth in spite of the current craziness.

Claire and Jamie had spent nearly every moment in Scotland together planning the event, filling out forms for Jamie’s eventual return to the States, and talking to their boys via Skype and Facetime. Claire had explained to Jenny that they were spending so much time on wedding plans not because either of them needed something fancy or public or perfect. No. They had many reasons. It was because they both wanted to offer the other this gift of the time spent together. Their wedding was going to be something special. They also wanted the boys and the extended family to know that this was an important moment, a once-in-a-lifetime moment.

Jenny, with tears in her eyes at Claire’s heartfelt explanation, had taken some time off from work to help them. Family members they hardly knew had come forward out of love to make sure that everything about their special day fell into place. Even the teachers from Claire’s school had sent gifts and cards and grumpy Murtagh had worked with the school’s computer lab teacher to set up a live-stream of the wedding so the nosy teachers (and secretaries) could watch the happy event unfold.

When it did, it was the stuff of fairy tales.

It didn’t matter a bit that Jamie had seen Claire in her wedding dress earlier because when she walked down that aisle in regal splendor, he knew he’d never seen or would see anything as lovely as the woman before him.

It didn’t matter at all that Fergus, the ring bearer, wasn’t bearing a ring.

“Cousin Ian still has it,” he whispered, overheard by everyone in the church. “He wouldn’t let me ‘traipse about’ with it before the wedding and then it started and I didn’t have it.” He shrugged at his mother who only laughed, kissed her son on his curly head, turned him aside to stand nearby, and refocused her attention on Jamie who was addressing the situation with Ian.

It didn’t matter that they were there in Scotland because Jamie _couldn’t_ be at home with them right now until things were addressed and nailed down.

It mattered that they were there because of _love_. Nobody doubted that as they watched the happy couple in front of them.

Tears glistened in the corner of Jamie’s eyes throughout the ceremony. Claire’s shaky hands were steadied once they were ensconced in Jamie’s strong ones.

Now Caire stood in the small reception line, skin glowing like a pearl fresh from the sea, hair pulled gently back though curls still framed her face. Dressed in a simple, tea-length dress of white with classic lines on her willowy frame she leaned in toward her new husband.

In a dark suit cut perfectly to fit his lean muscled frame, Jamie stood, gazing intently down at his bride. His arm was wrapped protectively around her small waist as if it was the most natural thing in the world for it to be there, touching her.

“And who was _that_?” she whispered to Jamie under her breath as an elderly couple hobbled away to sit at a table at their small reception.

“Um, Duncan and Margaret Fraser. They’re my da’s uncle and aunt on his father’s side,” he paused, his forehead wrinkling. “Actually I dinna ken if that’s right at all,” he pondered.

She laughed at him. Since coming to Scotland his accent had become more and more pronounced and she’d been teasing him over it mercilessly though she absolutely loved it.

“Murtagh would know how we’re related. The family gets a wee bit confusing at times,” he shrugged and she turned to face him fully.

“You _know_ I’m loving it!” she affirmed. “I never had much family and even if I can’t figure this one out, I know there’s love. That’s enough for us,” she waved her hand in a gesture encompassing herself and their lads.

“This, our _own_ family, the one we’re making together, it’s more than I could have dreamt of, Jamie.”

“I love you, Claire, come what may. It’s always been forever,” he reminded her, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead.

It was all either of them had ever wanted and more.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Though I’ve written research papers of this length before, I’ve never written fiction (as an adult...I always wrote stories as a child!) until this January. I definitely never anticipated that I’d write a multi-chapter fic! Thank you all for sticking with me as I attempted this new writing task. I wouldn’t have stuck with it if not for your support and love for this story.


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